Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil
by the morrighan
Summary: Detective John Sheppard races against the clock to save the world...despite obstacles and distractions in his path.
1. Chapter 1

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil

_I hate funerals. At least I had no emotional attachment to this one, no vested interest. I couldn't help but glance at my watch. Time was ticking by and every hour counted. We were wasting time but I kept my mouth shut. Everyone knew we were wasting time but out of respect for Rodney they put a halt to all that they had been doing to give him this. This brief respite in the rush to save the world. A moment to say goodbye to his wife. _

_It was a moment we would never recover._

**11:15am**

John couldn't keep still. Not for long, anyway. He kept fidgeting with his tie as if it was strangling him. He hated ties. He had barely kept still on the pew in the church, shifting and checking his phone. One foot tapping and tapping and tapping until Moira had placed her hand on his thigh, then his knee, stopping it. At least that had been distracting as her fingers had subtly stroked the inside of his thigh, sliding up and up but just stopping short of the goal.

Now they stood outside, in the blazing heat of the late morning under an impossibly orange sky waiting for the burial. John stepped back a little, forward a little. His gaze roved over Moira who was standing next to him when he could keep still. He liked the way the black dress hugged her curves, her rear. But the V-neck was too modest. He could only get the barest of glimpses of her cleavage, and he was trying. Really trying. He couldn't get even a hint as to what color her bra and panties were.

So he moved this way and that way, angling to get a peak. Angling for any distraction before he would lay eyes on the casket. Would be reminded of another funeral, for another woman. A memory he wanted to avoid at all costs. He diverted his attention from the matter at hand.

Moira could see his motions out of the corner of her eye. He was as bad as a little boy but she understood the anxiety, the stress. She had her own demons to bury, her own memories of a burial she would rather not access. As John stepped next to her again she caught his arm, halting him. She knew this was difficult for him as it was for her. But she also realized his objective. She was glad the high heels negated the necessity to perch on tiptoes to reach his ear. "Red," she softly informed.

"Huh?" he asked. Met her gaze but she looked from him to the cemetery. Gaze moving away from the open maw of the grave, awaiting its dire delivery.

"Red," she repeated softly. "To satisfy your curiosity, detective."

"Oh? Oh." He smiled. "Details."

She tried not to smile. Turned slightly to whisper in his ear. "Red satin with black lace. Push-up bra. Demi-cup. Hipsters panties very low cut."

John let his gaze rove over her, envisioning. "Thank you, Moira. Now I've got a hard-on."

She snorted, trying to quell her amusement. His tone was annoyed although he wasn't. "John," she scolded, glancing at him. "See? We don't have to argue for you to get it up."

He snorted, pursing his lips together to stifle the laugh.

Moira sobered, colored as a few mourners were staring at them. Watching their curious interplay. She became somber as the casket approached at last, wheeled on a gurney. Rodney followed, head bowed, expression hidden from view.

John was looking at Moira again. At her long hair trapped in a braid. He longed to set it loose. He longed to lose himself in the waves of her hair, to lose himself in her. He wanted her in nothing but that red lingerie on their lilac bed. Then in nothing at all as he indulged in sexual release. He wanted sex, not to be standing here in the dull heat of a dull morning at a funeral. He shifted again.

"Sweetie, keep still." She whispered the admonishment, tugging on his arm. Moira couldn't look at the coffin. She kept her gaze on the grass near her feet.

John stepped a little behind her. He deliberately bumped into her rear. She softly gasped. "That's not my side-arm, baby," he said into her ear. Stepped to stand next to her again as the preacher added a few more words to the brief service.

Moira's mirth faded. She kept her gaze glued to the grass, trying to ignore the memories threatening to surface. Grief and guilt colliding, coalescing into a queasy tension in her stomach. She stared as a clump of violets rolled off the lowering coffin. Fell onto the grass. The purple blooms vibrant against the green.

John suddenly slid his arm around her waist, drawing her close. Drawing her against the solid warmth of his body. She glanced at him, grateful. His handsome face was somber. His gaze was darting everywhere but at the coffin. He was being plagued by the past as well. His black jacket and slacks were severe against his white shirt. The black tie was askew, the shirt sloppily tucked into his pants, the belt slightly at an angle.

His fingers were playing along her side, softly caressing their way down to her hip. She shifted, but he pulled her against him again, bumping their hips. He needed the feel of her softness and curves. He needed her as close as possible, for now. John's gaze darted over the mourners. He saw their sorrow, but most of it seemed to be directed at the bereaved husband, not at the deceased. John looked at Rodney.

The physicist was staring at the coffin as the earth swallowed it. His head was bowed. His hands were clasped in front of him. John felt a wave of empathy. Recognized the grief, the guilt. He pressed Moira even closer, his hold tightening until she made a soft sound of protest. He relinquished his grip, but only a little. Met her gaze. "Sorry," he muttered.

She shifted in his grasp, looked down at the little clump of violets. The purple blooms were already starting to wilt. She felt a wave of tears, couldn't explain it. Felt a deep despair until John's hand slid down and behind her to gently squeeze her rear. She gasped, shifted and met his gaze.

He gave her a quick smile. He slid his hand up to her waist again.

The mourners were all consoling Rodney, expressing sympathy, concern as they filed past the grave to him. Greeting him with a handshake, a hug, words that were just words that really did nothing to assuage the pain he felt. But he played along, nodded and accepted the consolation. Found he was comforting them instead of the other way round.

John dutifully neared with reluctant steps. He reached Rodney. Shook the other man's hand. "Sorry," he said gruffly.

"Thanks."

Moira inwardly sighed as John moved past them. "Rodney! I am so sorry!" She briefly hugged him.

"Thank you, Moira." Rodney briefly smiled.

Moira touched his arm, stepped to John who was watching, waiting for her, but she turned as Richard joined them. "Yes?"

"There's a small reception back at the house if you would care to join us."

"Of course we—"

John interrupted her. "What? I'm sorry, but we don't have time for that, not all of us. Have you forgotten what's going on here?" John's voice was quiet but it carried anyway.

"No, detective, I haven't forgotten what's going on here. Unlike you we stop to remember our losses and to mourn our dead. To acknowledge our faults and to remember what they cost us."

John glowered, tensing. Looking as if he was ready to punch the other man. In fact his right hand was clenching into a fist but Moira intervened. "Of course we will…" she paused as John had not so lightly smacked her rear with his open left hand. "…pay our respects," she resumed smoothly, but in light of his reprimand improvised, "but I'm afraid I can't stay too long because I am getting an awful headache."

"Oh. All right, then. At least you have manners, Doctor O'Meara." Richard glared at John before he moved to Rodney.

Moira whirled, glaring. "John! You—"

"Sex. Now. Let's go, baby," he said curtly. He took her hand and pulled her across the grass, across the graves and to the street where his red car was parked.

"John! Damn it, John, slow down! John, we have to make an appearance at the reception! John!"

He whirled as she crashed into him. He caught her, kissed her. Hard. Shoving her into him as he turned them so she was trapped. Caught between the two hard bodies of the vehicle and the man. She squirmed but he wouldn't let her go. Drew back at last. "Fuck. Only say my name like that when you come, baby. Let's go."

"John!" She sighed as he freed her, sprinted round the car and got in. She opened the door, sat next to him. Slammed it shut. "We have to make an appearance at the—"

"No. We have to have sex, messy, rough sex thanks to that mouth of yours, baby. The only question is where."


	2. Chapter 2

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil2

_We were running out of time…but there is always, always time for some things._

Moira was staring at John. For all his haste he hadn't started the car. For all of his passionate impatience he just sat there, hands on the ignition key, gaze locked on the departing mourners. "John? I don't understand the question."

He met her gaze. Smirked. "Where? It's a simple question, Moira. Where? His or yours?"

"His or my what?" she asked, baffled.

"Look, either way I need to serve this warrant before it gets really messy, baby, and it has to be in you. So? If we go to his I can guarantee you I will be fucking you in some room in less than five, and while titillating as that sounds it would be highly inappropriate. Whereas if we go to yours we can relax and not come on someone else's bed. Or wall. Or floor. Or—"

"All right, sweetie, I get it!" she flared. He was absolutely serious. Stern. Sexy. Although humor sparkled in his green eyes when he met her gaze. "Mine," she said angrily, but couldn't wait to unleash the passion from all that tension. She barely got the word out of her mouth when he started the car and tore out of the cemetery as if he was trying to break a speed record.

Carson swallowed the Scotch in a gulp. Set the glass down. He was uncomfortable. His blue eyes full of worry and compassion when he looked at Rodney. "I don't see why you want to know this. Why you need to know this. I assure you, she felt nothing."

The two men were talking quietly in a corner. Guests were milling about the house, exchanging pleasantries and memories of Jennifer. Most had brought food but for the most part it was untouched. The covered dishes and plates proliferated on the table.

"We both know that isn't true," Rodney refuted. "I've seen the feeding process. Several times. But I, I don't know what it feels like. I couldn't ask John about it. But I have to know. What she felt. What she felt at, at the end."

Carson frowned. "I can assure you, Rodney, it was so quick she felt nothing."

"That's a lie, Carson. Do me the courtesy of not lying to me."

"Fine. You truly want to know? So you can torture yourself over it day after day? I see you blame yourself, Rodney," the doctor continued to Rodney's startled gaze, "and believe me I've been down that road. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But if you insist…"

"I do."

Carson sighed. "At first there is an incredible rush as the enzyme floods the system. It is exhilarating, like a natural high of endorphins and stimulants. But then the feeding starts. The surge reverses and is taken along with every drop of liquid, every drop of life in every living cell. Imagine inhaling and never being able to exhale again. It's painful. But quick. The process is so efficient it only takes moments, mere moments to drain away the rest of your life."

Rodney swallowed. He shut his eyes a moment, willing away his tears. He opened them to see the doctor's kind gaze. "Thank you, Carson."

Carson nodded. Touched his arm a moment. "I know it won't give you peace, but the truth hardly ever does."

"Call him." Moira hit John's arm. She was sprawled underneath him, naked bodies at rest finally. "Call him! Thanks to you and that damn libido of yours we missed the whole reception! Call him!" she insisted.

"All right!" John snapped, rolling off her. He scooted up the bed to reach the table, stretching his arm out, his fingers out to snare his phone. He grabbed it, slid, rolled onto his back, shoving the lilac sheets to his waist. Annoyed, but satisfied. The sex had been rough, quick and intense. Both times. He had been in a very good mood, had almost forgotten about the fate of the world until Moira started to nag him. He hit the button. Held the phone to his ear.

Rodney was sitting alone. Surrounded by food he didn't want. The silence was oppressive. His phone buzzed and he stared at it. Answered it. "Hello?"

"Yeah, McKay, I…sorry we didn't make it. Moira's headache got worse and I had to stay with her. You know." He added with a grin, "stuff get coming up. Repeatedly." He switched the phone to his other ear as Moira tried to grab it. "Big stuff, too, huh, Moira? And she just had to take a firm hold and—"

"John!" Moira pounced on him, grabbed the phone and sat, turning away from him. "I'm sorry, Rodney."

"That's all right, Moira. How do you feel?"

"I'm feeling better now. Why don't you come over here, to my place for some lunch?"

"What?"

"What?" John echoed the sentiment.

"I don't want to impose," Rodney said, surprised. Relieved. The house was oppressive.

"You wouldn't be imposing," she assured.

"Yes, he would," John argued, fingers sliding along her naked back.

"Please, Rodney. Come to my place now. You need to get out of that empty house. We can have lunch and compare notes on what we need to do next, okay? I won't take no for an answer."

"That's my line," John quipped.

"All right, Moira. Thank you. I'll be over in ten."

"Sounds good." She ended the call. Turned to see John scowling. "What?

"What? Shit! You had to invite him over here? Now? For lunch? Right in the middle of having sex?"

"We're not in the middle of having sex, John! We both know how it is, being in that empty house when all the mourners have gone. It's terrible." She sighed. "Get moving, would ya? He'll be here in ten! I can get the sandwiches made. You need to go on a beer run."

He sighed. Sat. Brushed strands of hair from her face, an oddly tender motion. He kissed her. "Yeah, I know how that is, Moira. This day hasn't been easy for either of us, has it?"

"Go make yourself useful, detective, and get the beer."

"Hmm…I think I was pretty damn useful already, wasn't I?" He raised a brow.

She laughed. "Yes, you most certainly were, sweetie. But you—"

He kissed her. Pushed her onto her back and slid over her, making her laugh. "We've got ten, you said? Let's see what we can do in five."

Todd stood, hands clasped behind his back. A pose very reminiscent of his nemesis John Sheppard. He smiled at the comparison, revealing his sharp, sharp teeth. He eyed the humans kneeling before him. Men and women gazing on him with rapturous awe. They were easily led. Obeyed without thought, without question. The perfect cattle to lead, to herd.

And then to cull once their usefulness was done.

He nodded, a quick incline of his head. "It is time. You know what to do. You are going to be the masters of a whole new world after this evening. You will have eternal life and eternal youth. This device will call my brethren to me, and you will be amply rewarded. More than you have been given already. Go now, and guard that device with your very lives."

"Yes, master, yes master," they intoned, all rising to their feet at the same time. They filed out of the room. Began the long, long climb to where the device was waiting. Waiting to be activated by a remote unit that encircled Todd's wrist.

Todd turned to the shadows of the basement. "It is done. Only one thing remains. You know what to do. I will be waiting for you."

"Yes, master." A man stepped out of the shadows. Bowed.

The dim light glimmered briefly on his bald scalp before he left.


	3. Chapter 3

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil3

_I'm not good at these things. Talking. Sharing. Stuff. And now Moira threw me right into it by inviting Rodney over to console and comfort. Because we two would understand like no one else could. I didn't care. Not really. I needed that damn intel, not to hold some guy's hand because his wife had her life literally sucked out of her. Maybe if we had known it was the last day we wouldn't have wasted time on such useless things. Maybe not._

_In hindsight, though, I am kind of glad we did._

**12:25pm**

The mood was somber, but comfortable. The men sat on the couch, drinking their beer. Silent. Moira watched them as she rinsed off the empty plates. Although declaring they weren't hungry both men had eaten like wolves, devouring the sandwiches in record time. They had seriously depleted her inventory of chips and had almost annihilated her chocolate chip cookie supply. Now they were silent, drinking beer, and Moira realized she would have to be the one to initiate a dialogue.

Both had removed their ties. John had restored his black and white suit, but the shirt was haphazardly tucked into his pants and quite open at the chest. Rodney had taken off his black jacket in response to the heat of the day and his pale blue shirt was rumpled. Both men looked weary, but for different reasons. Both reluctant to talk.

She set down the plates. Walked over to the couch. John scooted, making room for her but instead she perched on the armrest next to Rodney, causing John to scowl. "Was everything all right?" she asked, easing her way towards her goal.

"What? Oh, sorry, Moira! Yes, everything was fine. Delicious. Thank you." He glanced at her. She had donned a casual green t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Her hair was tied loosely back from her pensive face. "I didn't realize how hungry I was."

"Still am," John muttered, but he wasn't talking about food as he stared at her breasts a moment. His gaze traveled up to her face to see her frowning at him. He smiled.

She shook her head. Mouthed _say something_.

He mouthed back _make me_. He smiled smugly.

She glared. She touched Rodney's shoulder. "Rodney, you mustn't feel guilty."

"I…" He appeared startled. "I am."

"No. What happened wasn't your fault. Not anyone's really."

"I'd like to believe that, Moira, but it's not true." Rodney sighed, staring at nothing. "I was the one who pressured for her reinstatement. I was the one who gave her access to her lab again. I was the one who gave her access to the project again. Just to the lab, though, not to Todd. What was she doing there in the first place?"

"You said it yourself, Rodney. They get inside your head. He was manipulating her. It wasn't your fault because in the end it was her choice, her decision to go to him. To unlock that cell door. Not yours. And sometimes things don't happen the way we plan them. Sometimes things are beyond our control, despite our best intentions."

John was staring at Moira. Her soft voice alluring. Her words more so. Her sympathy washing over him as well as Rodney, although she didn't know the details of John's horrendous past. Only the vague outlines. Not like he knew hers. She was offering empathy. Absolution. He didn't know if Rodney would accept it, only that he, John Sheppard, disgraced and vilified former Air Force pilot would.

"You're not guilty of anything, Rodney, except perhaps trusting her too much. You can't help but trust the ones you love, now can you? Don't let it eat you up inside. I know what that's like and if you let it get a hold on you it will never let go. Never. Don't go there, Rodney. It wasn't your fault, what happened. Don't you agree, John? John!"

He blinked. He had been lost in his own guilt, his own grief. Memories of the past flashing in his mind, but Moira's words had rendered the images not as harsh, the feelings not as brutal. "Yeah," he agreed.

Moira waited, but he said nothing else. She rolled her eyes. Both men drank their beer. She stood. Circled round the couch. She leaned close to John. "Talk to him," she ordered into his ear. Bit. He grunted in response, almost dropped the beer bottle. He turned but she lightly hit him upside the head then walked out of the room.

John inwardly cursed. Licked his lips. "Moira. Moira's right," he stated. Staring at the beer bottle in his hands, as if the words he wanted to say were on the label. "All that stuff she said. Yes."

"Thanks," Rodney muttered, staring at his own beer bottle. Moira had been the bridge between them and now that she had abandoned them it was awkward.

"And the rest. That stuff. The guilt will eat you alive. I know about that. So does Moira. You know I know. The stuff. Guilt. So don't."

"Yes, you do. And she does. Now I do." Rodney drank some beer. Swallowed. "I asked Carson. About what she endured. I…I didn't want to ask you. About, you know."

John briefly touched his chest. Scowled. "Yeah. I…it wasn't pleasant."

"No. That's why I didn't ask you. But I had to know. So I asked Carson."

"So you said."

"Yes. I asked Carson. He told me. After I insisted. He didn't want to tell me, but I inshis, insisted," he corrected the slur. Eyed the row of empty bottles on the table and couldn't remember how many were his and how many were John's. "John, don't fuck this up!" he suddenly blurted. "What you have here."

John shrugged, glancing round but Moira was nowhere in sight. "I won't."

"I'm sheriuos, serious, John. You've got something here. A house. A woman who loves you. All of you. And you love her. All of her. Enough said. Don't fuck it up, okay?"

"I…okay. I guess."

"Don't!" Rodney was adamant, pointing his empty bottle at John now. Gaze stern. "I fucked up. I trusted the wrong one and look where it got me! Look where it got her! Stupid! Just so stupid! Don't fuck this up, John!"

"Okay," John soothed. "Now shut up about it, will ya?"

"Okay. Okay."

Both men sat back, relaxing. Drinking in companionable silence.

Evan shook his head. He was hunched over the table, maps strewn all over it. The old-fashioned kind of maps made of paper and drawn with human hands, printed in color on machines. He eschewed the computers and their fancy screens for this approach. He was utilizing older maps and comparing them to the most modern versions. Looking for something he wouldn't know until he found it.

"So? Tell me you've got something," Steven asked, joining the other man.

"Not yet. It's here. I just can't see it yet." Evan frowned, tapping the papers. "If you look at all of this as one single mission the picture changes. From a random event or events to a much more insidious plan."

"You mean from the beginning? But it wasn't. I mean we were able to close the rift and to shoot down those Vipers. To destroy that one Hive ship with minimal risk and damage. We captured Todd and quickly rounded up those other stray Wraith. Sure, there was collateral damage, but there always is. You know about that. You served, once."

Evan met his gaze. Blue eyes narrowing. "Yes, I did."

"I've read your file, major. Refusing direct orders."

"I wouldn't fire on unarmed civilians. End of story."

"Is it? Sounds to me like you are a loose cannon. Not as bad as Sheppard, but still—"

"It's none of your fucking business, now is it?"

"It is. I need to know you won't back down in a fight. If we are caught out there I need to know you won't turn tail and run."

Evan glowered. "I won't. But I won't kill innocent people, either, even if they are in the line of fire. Got that?"

"Okay. Got it, major. So tell me what you see on these maps."

"I'm not sure yet. And don't call me major."


	4. Chapter 4

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil4

_I hate waiting. But there was nothing else to do. We were all trapped in Todd's timetable. We knew the basic outline of it. We had a rough idea about what his objectives were. We even had an idea of a radius of his actions. But we needed to narrow it all down. And as long as Todd had gone to ground we could do nothing but wait and wait. _

Moira was working. Typing on her laptop as she sat cross-legged on her bed. Phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder, head at an odd angle as she talked and typed at the same time. Files were spread in front of her across the lilac bedspread. Pages of notes, observations, technical readouts and DNA profiles. "Are you sure about that? Radiation?"

"Yes, love," Carson's voice was a Scottish dream on the other end of the line. "Each victim had a trace amount because of what that first one was doing. That's what gave me the idea of using a specific isotope to track him. It's a long shot but it's the best thing we've got so far."

"Because of the same power requirements? That could work. It could alter his cells, at least at a microscopic level. But he probably won't have enough exposure. I have a feeling he would let others do the dirty work for him. And the other thing."

"Yes. I haven't noticed anything so far, love, but I've got an eye out."

"Just be careful, Carson. We don't really know these people, and apart from Rodney I don't trust them. If the other thing is true then we have to be on our toes." She looked up suddenly to see John lounging in the doorway. His long, lean body filled the frame, slouching against one wall. His arm was raised up along it. Gaze smoldering as he assessed her. "I gotta go. See you soon." She ended the call. Set the phone aside and closed the laptop. "John?"

"Thing?"

She gathered the paper's into the folder. Motions brisk, nervous. "How's Rodney?"

"Passed out on the couch. He may be a brilliant scientist but he can't hold his liquor. Thing?"

"Evan's working at a different angle and he may be close to narrowing down a location. Has there been any word from your LVPD guys?"

"No. All's quiet on the Vegas front. Thing?" he persisted. He straightened and entered the room. Shut the door quietly behind him.

Moira shifted, placing the laptop, the files and the phone onto the table. She turned as John stood a moment, looking at her. Then he sat, laid back and quietly moaned. Tapping his shoes on the floor. She scooted to him. "John?" She ran her fingers through his hair, ruffling it. She gently massaged his temples as he closed his eyes.

"I should head out to my place for that one, baby. But I would rather spank that pert little ass blue. Thing?"

She softly kissed him. Ran her mouth delicately over his lips, his cheek, up to his brow. "It's nothing, John. So he's passed out on the couch? Good. It's just what he needed. And you."

"Me? I need to know what the thing is, Moira. I just oh." He paused as she slid down, over him. Kissing him, capturing his mouth with hers and pressing her body into his. His arms slid round her as kiss after kiss aroused, comforted, consoled. He reached up and freed her hair from the ponytail. It cascaded around them, a silky curtain of browns and reds drowning them in softness.

"John." She lifted to see his handsome face. Her fingers slid along his shirt's generous opening. "Yes, you. It was worse for you, wasn't it? I know it was worse for me."

He frowned, but replied, "yes. You have Middlegate Hills. I have Afghanistan. Same thing, somewhat. Sort of. I guess. Lost someone close to me. And several more. My fault. All of it. Not intentional, but I fucked it up real bad. Real bad." His voice was gentle, grim. He drew her mouth to his for a kiss. Rolled them so she was under him now. "I don't want to talk about it, all right. Not now. Maybe not ever. We have this. This is enough. Just this."

Moira nodded. Touched his face. Saw the pain, the guilt, the grief in those green eyes. Knew it mirrored hers but she hadn't realized how much. "Just this, John. Just this." She murmured as John ran kisses along her throat, up to nibble her earlobe. His body moving on hers in obvious sexual interest. "John? John?" she asked softly, her hands slipping under his shirt to run up his bare back. His hand slid to cup a breast as his mouth caught hers again. Again. "John? You…"

"I need this as well, baby. You. Me. Now. Before Rodney wakes up and we have to get back to saving the fucking world."

Rodney woke. A headache was pounding, pounding in an odd, persistent rhythm, until he realized it was a noise he was hearing and not just the pain in his head. He sat, wiping the drool off his chin. Snorted at his inebriation. Despite the headache he felt better. He stood, swayed a bit. Finding himself alone he looked round, curious. He wondered where the bathroom was and started to head down the hallway. Froze, hearing that rhythmic sound again.

It was gaining in momentum as something was hitting, hitting the wall. When he heard the soft sounds, the guttural exclamations he realized with a start what the sounds were. Smirking he headed back to the kitchen and got himself a drink of water. Shaking his head over it.

He searched the cabinets, found some aspirin and down the pills. Drank more water. Waiting. Waiting for the passionate activity in the bedroom to finally cease. He glanced at his watch. Smirked. He turned, hearing voices. Waited, glass in his hand. He set it down, stepped to the table as John emerged, adjusting his belt. "Bathroom?"

John met the other man's gaze. Unapologetic. "Down the hall, to the right."

"Thanks." Rodney headed there, paused. "And John, um, thanks. For you know."

"Yeah. Whatever. We leave in ten."

"Okay."

John smirked, stepping to the couch. Very aware that Rodney had probably overheard the vigorous lovemaking but not caring. He couldn't wait to tease Moira about it, though. He knew she would be abashed, flustered. Furious. He felt the anticipation building. He turned, hearing her voice as she ran into Rodney coming out of the bathroom. He waited, but it was Rodney who appeared and joined him at the couch. "Ready?"

"Yes. Moira's just coming."

"What, again?" He smirked. The men shared a laugh after an awkward moment.

"What's so funny?" Moira asked, joining them. She was glad to hear their good mood but curious. Suspicious as they wouldn't quite meet her gaze. "Well?"

"Nothing, Moira."

"John?"

"Nothing, like he said. Except, well…he said, he said you were coming."

"And?" she asked, not seeing the cause of hilarity. Both men were trying not to laugh. They exchanged a glance, a quick grin.

"And? That's all."

"Except John said you had already."

"Yeah, that. You had already so I was surprised you were coming again, especially without me."

"What? I…oh. John!" she flared, realizing.

Both men broke into unbridled laughter. A release of tension, of stress, of grief.

Moira sighed, waited as they calmed. "Men," she sighed. "Let's go! Come oh no!" she mourned, as the word triggered more hilarity. "Fine! Why don't you boys grow up? I'll be waiting in the car!" She glared, whirled and headed out of the house, ponytail flying in time to her hips.

Both men sobered. "Sorry, John," Rodney said.

"No need. She'll be fine. Besides, I like it when she's flustered and angry at the same time."

"I bet you do."

They exited the house. John made sure the door was locked. Rodney moved to his car. John stood a moment, scanning the neighborhood. Then he strolled to his car and got into the driver's seat. Moira was in the passenger seat, staring at nothing, seemingly miles away. "Moira? What's the other thing?" he asked, resuming his line of inquiry before the sex had intervened.

She glanced at him as began to drive out of the neighborhood. "There's another moll in the facility."


	5. Chapter 5

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil5

_I should have realized. I should have known. Normally I was the most suspicious of persons. I didn't trust anyone. I didn't really know these government people and I should have suspected there was more going on beneath the surface. But I was too busy balancing those concerns with my other job. I was too busy handling my boss and the other cops so I wasn't paying close enough attention. I should have listened to my instincts. _

_I should have listened to Moira._

**1:45pm**

John drove into traffic. "You mean Keller? Yeah, I know. I don't think she'll be a problem."

"No, John. Carson and I suspect…we suspect there is another."

John glanced at her. "Another traitor? Not possible. I'm sure those people have been thoroughly vetted, more than once to get those jobs. Besides, who would it be?"

"We don't know." She sighed. "It could be nothing. That's why I didn't want to say anything to you yet. I mean, you're a detective. If you don't suspect anyone then it's probably nothing. We don't have any evidence or anything."

"But?" he prompted. "Moira? Something must have made you think this? Well?"

"It's nothing." She stared out the window. Fingers twisting in her lap. She chewed on her lower lip a moment. Looked at John. He was staring out the windshield, increasing the car's speed as they headed out of the suburbs and into the desert. His handsome profile was drawn in serious lines. Dark brown hair highlighted by the orange glow from the sun above them. The windows were open and the hot wind ruffled his hair, ruffled the collar of his white shirt. His sunglasses shielded his eyes from her. "If Todd can get inside your head, as Rodney said, if he can influence people even outside the facility who's to say he hasn't done that to someone else inside the facility?"

John was mulling over her words. "Those protesters, you mean? The end of the world crazies? Yeah. I suspect there are sympathizers among them. I doubt there are any more in the facility, Moira. After Keller they did a very thorough recon, believe me."

"Did they? And what if it isn't mind control or subtle subconscious influencing?"

"You mean a traitor? A willing collaborator?"

Moira shrugged. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"I think you've been watching too many espionage movies. Besides, if there was a collaborator he would have made his move by now. We can sort this out later, once Todd is back in custody, or dead. I prefer the latter."

"I guess, I guess you're right." She touched her stomach briefly.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, just a little queasy. Must be something I ate. And it's so hot. And all this stress over the, the situation." She sighed, watching him. He was so calm, relaxed. As if this was just another day at the office for him, which in many ways it was. She envied him the ability to take everything in stride, including space aliens on the loose and a rift in space/time.

"It will be fine, Moira. Relax. We'll catch him before he does whatever the hell he is going to do. I won't have the world end on my watch."

She smiled. "Good to know, John."

He smiled at her. "Besides…we haven't used the chair restraints yet."

Todd smiled. Not because his plan was working to perfection. Not because all the elements were in place and all he had to do was to wait for nightfall. Not because he had fed, and fed well. Not because he was at least three steps ahead of John Sheppard and always would be.

No, the reason Todd was smiling was because he had just had his nails done and they looked rather fetching in the orangey light falling from the sky. He liked the way the file had sharpened them to even deadlier points. He liked how the gold lacquer made them gleam like daggers.

Of course the skilled technician who had performed these tasks was now dead. Todd really hadn't had a choice, once she saw his face and started to scream. She had been an excellent meal, but Todd wanted to save his appetite for later, so he had only taken a decade off her before killing her in a more conventional manner. He had sighed as he stepped over her dead body on his way out of the shop.

It was a shame because she had real skill.

He wondered if he could find another nail tech as skilled as the dead one.

John could feel his shirt sticking to his back, glued by sweat as he parked the car and got out of it. He stepped round the vehicle as Moira emerged from it. He caught her arm, halting her. "Wait." He watched Rodney walk over to them. He seemed reluctant to enter the building.

"Anything wrong?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"No. I just need a word with Moira." He waited, but Rodney didn't move. John frowned. "A private word," he clarified.

"Oh." Yet Rodney lingered, not taking the hint. "I don't really want to go in there. To face them all, you know. It's funny, really. They were all saying such nice things about Jen. Praising her and extolling her virtues, making her out to be almost perfect. When in fact some of them couldn't stand her."

"Yeah," John nodded. "They all love you when you are dead. When you're alive they don't give a shit."

"Until it's too late," Moira agreed. They stood a moment, brooding under the hot sun. Weighed down by private grief, private guilt. Linked by their tragedies yet unwilling to share about them.

"I'll let you speak in private." Rodney headed for the facility. The sun elongated his shadow until he entered the building.

"John? What is it?" she asked, turning to him. The heat was giving her a headache and she wanted to be out of the sun. His grip on her arm was gentle, but firm. Letting her know she wasn't going anywhere just yet.

He snatched his phone from his pocket as it buzzed, buzzed like an angry bee. "This other thing. The moll. Don't say a word to anyone about it."

"I wasn't going to say—"

"We need these people on board and since you don't have any proof of someone's collusion it would be best to yeah?" he spoke into the phone, freeing her arm. He listened. Scowled. Softly swore. "On my way." He shoved the phone into his back pocket. "I gotta go. All hell's breaking loose in the city. Moira, if there is any kind of breakthrough, any kind of lead at all call me immediately."

"Okay, John." She watched him walk round to the driver's side of the car. The heat broke in shimmering waves over his broad back, over the black jacket, making him appear like an illusion. He was all wavy lines and insubstantial, a handsome mirage that was receding from her view. A blur in black and white. "John!" She rushed to him.

He turned as she reached him. "Yeah?" He raised a brow, puzzled.

She touched his arm. Embarrassed at the sudden display of emotion. This sudden dismay, as if he was walking out of her life. She couldn't explain it. "Be, be careful, John." She frowned. Quickly kissed him. A brush of her lips across his, a whisper of emotion, of feeling that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with love.

He smiled. "I'm always careful, baby. Don't worry."


	6. Chapter 6

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil6

_I'm always careful, I told her. Problem was I was also very, very stupid._

**2:35pm**

John entered the precinct building. Cold air hit him like a slap, but he welcomed it after the dismal drive through the heat. He was startled by the fact that the air conditioner was in fact working the way it should. The room was oddly quiet, despite the urgent summons he had received. A lull filled the building. Only a few policemen were at their stations.

"Shep!" Danville greeted, waving his arm in the air. "Come take a look at this!"

"Where's Hendricks?" John asked, walking towards the desk.

"He's holed up with the mayor. He wanted you here. We've got SWAT at each power station and those freaks are starting to make some noise but we'll shut 'em down real quick."

"Oh. So what have got oh no," he groaned as the men laughed.

Danville grinned. "There's a new site. Not so much a new one as an old revamped one I guess. There are a lot of older ones that aren't maintained. Guess they lost interest in ya, Shep. What a shame."

John sighed. "Don't you have better things to do than to google me?" he snapped. Men chuckled.

"But you are fascinating, Shep. At least to them. Look!"

"I don't wanna look!" John complained.

"It's called D.E.T.E.C.T. Devoted Enthusiasts of The Excellent Crime Technician." The men laughed loudly. "Now that just doesn't make any sense at all! And look! You have to be a member to look at anything! That's just not very fan friendly, is it? And then there's the Sheppard Weekly, but it's not much more than a—"

"Who do I see about getting my name back?" John wondered. "Damn it, Danville, that's enough!" The men laughed at his anger and chagrin. "Do you want to be president of my fan club now, is that it?"

"Hey, there's a thought. I could monitor your Facebook account and see what kinds of pictures these women send you."

"You wouldn't want to know! Besides, I don't have a Facebook page, so shut up! You better be careful, Danville. All of this interest will make people start to talk."

"You'll need a restraining order, Shep!" one jested, and they laughed again.

"I may get one anyway!" John agreed, switching off the computer. He turned to go. Turned right into a swinging fist. He staggered, nearly falling. The punch had caught him completely off-guard, but he swung his own fist, blocked another blow.

"All hell's breaking loose out there!" an angry African-American cop shouted as he was held back by two more. "Those mobs are going crazy, all at once, at all five locations!"

Danville switched on the television. Reports were on every channel, showing the protesters waving signs and shouting. Advancing on the police as they formed lines around the power plants. The mob was refusing to disperse and sirens wailed. "What the fuck?"

"Is this a terrorist attack? What's going on, Shep?" another asked.

John shrugged free of the men holding him. He rubbed his sore jaw. He checked his watch. "No. It's way too early," he muttered.

"Too early for what?" John's attacker asked, shaking free of the men. He glared.

"At least there haven't been any more bodies," one commented.

"He's lying low," John explained.

"You bastard! What aren't you telling us?"

"Bates, back off!" Danville ordered, but the other man was not to be denied. He rushed towards John but was held back again, restrained.

"He knows! He's always known!" Bates accused, pointing at John. "Hendricks is stuck with the mayor and we are spread thin across the city and he knows what the hell is going on here!"

"The only thing I know is you should get your ass back out there to contain the situation!" John argued, wiping blood off his chin. "I want every cop out there now. Arrest every one of those nut jobs if you have to! Danville, relay the order now! Sayles, try to get Hendricks on the line! I don't care what he's doing he needs to be here now! Damn it!" His phone buzzed. He grabbed it, saw the caller. Calmed. "Yeah?" he asked, softening his voice.

"John? Rodney thinks he's got something," Moira's voice informed over the line.

"I do have something!" Rodney's annoyance could be heard in the background, causing John to momentarily smile.

"Fine, you do! He does so could you get here now?" she asked.

"On my way." He ended the call. "I gotta go. Get more men deployed in—"

"And who the fuck was that? Some government agency pal of yours? The FBI? The CIA? Some co-conspirator? Oh, let me guess. It was that science geek, wasn't it? That paleontologist you're seeing. I bet she's handled lots of boners, huh? Tell me, Shep, how do you fuck her?"

John had gone very still. Every muscle tensed. There wasn't a sound in the room. No one moved. No one spoke. John's gaze hit Bates like ice. But the other man wasn't deterred. In fact he seemed to revel in the attention, in the pure ire directed at him now.

"Well? How do you fuck her? The smart ones are always so damn plain. I mean, sure, she's got a nice set of tits. Hell, I wouldn't mind copping a feel of those beauties, and she's got a tight little ass but you must put a bag over her head so you can get it up at all, huh? The beautiful ones are okay in bed but the plain ones give better head. Fucking cunt." He had barely said the last word when the shot rang out.

Silence. Stillness. The whirr of the air conditioner was the only sound. The only motion was John's as he took a step towards the body. Bates had fallen to the floor. A spot of blood was blooming on his chest. One shot, straight to the heart had killed him instantly. John's reaction and reflexes so fast his hand had been a blur of motion.

"Her name is Doctor O'Meara," he told the dead man calmly. He glanced at the staring men. His co-workers gaping at him. Stunned. Startled. Frozen. Without another word he stepped over the body and walked out of the building.

The gun was still in his hand.

Moira slid the phone into her pocket. "He's on his way." She turned to see Rodney fussing over a strange-looking device. They were alone in the physics lab. "Rodney? Did you hear me? John's on his way."

"I heard! Sorry," he apologized for his brusqueness. Sighed. "If I'm right, and I am, we don't have much time. Where's Lorne?"

"He was working on the maps still, with Caldwell." She circled the table where the device sat. It looked like a traffic cone, but smaller. Next to it sat an even stranger-looking device. This one was also vertical, but metallic. An orange extension was coming out of it, resembling molded flames. "Is that a ZPM?"

"What? Yes, it is. You read the file?"

"Yes. I thought you said that Todd didn't have access to that. He couldn't activate it."

"He doesn't. This is Ancient technology but it is not activated by the ATA gene. I presumed that he would need this kind of massive power boost."

"And he doesn't?"

"No, he does. Just not from this. I used this to test what I believe he has built. Good news is it can only be used once. Bad news is I won't able to trace it until it is activated."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. The seconds ticked, ticked, ticked.


	7. Chapter 7

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil7

_We all made mistakes. Me, most of all. At the time I thought I had everything in hand, well, nearly. I knew we were on a clock but we had hours before sundown. Hours in which to locate Todd and to stop his infernal plans. I was looking at the big picture when I should have been paying attention to the details. By the time I did it was too late._

_Too damn late._

John downed the Scotch in one quick, satisfying swallow. He had promised himself he'd have only one. One drink for the road but he was on his second and was eying a third. He had just killed a man, after all. But that didn't bother him. What bothered him was the irate confrontation. Bates was never the most hospitable of men but his violent outburst was uncharacteristic, even for him. And the outright hostility he had shown, the way he had denigrated Moira was the most puzzling of all.

He was musing on this, secure in the dark tavern, secure from the merciless heat of the afternoon when he heard his name being spoken. A man's voice. John ignored it, downed the rest of his second drink and grabbed a handful of pretzels. Nibbled on them one by one. Taking his time, although very aware of the man standing behind him. Two men, he realized, as their shadows stole along the bar on either side of him as the door to the tavern was opened, then shut. Once the sun was blocked the shadows disappeared. But the men who cast them remained.

"John Sheppard. Detective John Sheppard."

He inwardly swore. Turned on the stool to see two cops eying him. "Yeah?"

"We have orders to take you into custody. You are under arrest for the murder of Sergeant Bates."

John blinked. "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. Wishing now he had had that third drink. Maybe even a fourth. "We're in the middle of a crisis and you want to waste time with this?"

"If you'd like to come with us now, sir, I'm sure we can clear this up in no time," the younger of the two men stated. He was nervous, new to the job and it showed.

"There's nothing to clear up!" snarled the other one, a burly man with a goatee. "He shot Bates in cold blood! Let's go, Sheppard!" He reached out a hand to grab John's arm. Paused as John icily glared at him.

"Don't," John warned. He moved to his feet, seeing a third policeman at the door to the bar. "Fine. But I'm driving my own car. I won't be downtown long. Chuckles there can ride shotgun so I won't bolt, all right. Let's go!"

"Still no answer." Moira sighed, slipped her phone into her pocket. Cool air wafted down on her from the ceiling vents, ruffling stray strands of her hair that were escaping the ponytail. "Do you think something's happened to him?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Rodney assured.

"Have you seen what's happening?" Evan ran into the room. He grabbed the remote and aimed it at the television in the corner. "Look!"

They crowded around the television as live reports showed demonstrators at several power plants beginning to clash with police. Most were chanting and waving banners about the end of the world and were advancing. The police were trying to hold them back, dousing them with water and warnings, but so far the mob was undeterred. Reporters were scrambling to stand in front of the chaos, to make their name as they talked about the scene behind them. Some were trying to snag an interview but they were pushed aside by both protesters and police.

"Looks like he's got his hands full," Rodney commented.

"Is this Todd's move?" Evan asked.

"I'm not sure. It would only take one of them to slip through and sabotage a power station. They could attach the device before anyone knew what was happening." Yet Rodney's brow was furrowing in thought.

"The problem is which one? Which station? We have five choices."

"Do we? I'm not sure about that. Let me run a few quick simulations."

"So what do we do in the meantime?" Evan asked. "I've been going in circles here. I can't narrow it down any further than I have. The power stations are fixed locations."

"We can't wait for John," Rodney decided. "We need to take a step back and see this thing as a whole. I think we're asking the wrong questions."

"Then we better ask the right ones and get the right answers," Moira advised.

Todd sat in the shadows of the concert hall at Caesar's Palace. Swathed in darkness he clasped his hands together, as if in prayer. The faint overhead lights glinted on his gold nails. He was utterly rapt as he watched Celine Dion rehearse for her show to be held that night. He was captivated by her costume, all spangles and sparkled and feathers.

Her voice caught him as it soared to almost painful heights as she belted out _My Heart Will Go On._ He felt a tear trickle out of the corner of one eye.

He had lost so much. He was stranded in another galaxy, on an alien planet. The only one of his kind now that his comrades had been hunted and butchered one by one. He had been imprisoned by these lower life forms. He had been tortured. They had tried to starve him into submission but they had failed.

Now all his suffering would come to a sweet fruition. He would no longer suffer. He would no longer be alone, cast adrift from the Hive mind amid these pathetic humans. Soon he would be with countless others of his kind. His suffering would be rewarded. He would be able to choose which Queen to serve, a rare honor for his species.

Soon these humans would relinquish their mastery of this planet to the Wraith.

"Hey, buddy! You can't be in here. This is a closed rehearsal set and you oh my God!"

Todd quickly intercepted the man before he could holler a warning to those on the stage. With a twist of the neck he killed the man. Settled to hear another song as Celine performed.

He wondered how he could obtain her autograph.

John was unceremoniously shoved into a jail cell. "Come on!" he shouted, whirling as the door was shut. "Is this necessary? Call Hendricks! Call Danville!"

"We have!" a cop informed. "Danville's busy doing your damn job, Sheppard! Just cool your heels!"

"We don't have time!" John argued, moving to the cell door. He grasped the iron bars. "We don't have time for this shit! We have to—"

"Can it, Sheppard! Bates was a buddy of mine and you are going to pay for killing him!"

"A buddy of yours? Well, your taste in buddies really sucks." The man rushed but the cell divided them. John smiled, freeing the bars. "Come and get me."

"You bastard!"

"Leave him! He's just baiting you! He wants you to go in there! I want this by the book, damn it!" a man ordered.

"Hey, wait!" John called as both headed away from the cells. "I get a phone call! Give me my fucking phone! I know my rights!" But they ignored him. John sighed, ran a hand through his hair. Paced the confines of the cell and then sat on the hard bunk.

At least the Spartan accommodations were air-conditioned.


	8. Chapter 8

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil8

_I admit it. I totally fucked up that afternoon. Mea culpa. I certainly had time to realize it as I sat and stewed in that damn jail cell. They had taken my gun, my badge, my phone and I had nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs and wait to be processed or questioned or whatever they were planning. They had even taken my watch so I could only guess at the time. At how much time was passing, passing. _

**3:45pm**

John jumped to his feet, grabbing his discarded jacket from the bunk. "Finally!" he grumbled, but the expression on his boss's face was anything but encouraging. "I can explain."

"Can you?" Hendricks walked over to the cell. His voice was quiet, calm even, but anger radiated off him in waves. "What the hell is going on, Sheppard? The city's main power stations are seemingly under attack by a mob that would be more at home in a circus! I've got a dead nail technician but her neck was snapped so our killer had changed his MO or we have another maniac on the loose! I've got a roadie killed at a Celine Dion rehearsal and she's having hysterics going on about some guy in a Halloween mask who wanted her autograph! And I've got a dead cop in the house apparently gunned down by you! So which do you want to explain first, because I'm all ears, Sheppard!"

John licked his lips, digesting all this new information. "Did he get the autograph?"

"How the hell should I know?" Hendricks flared.

"Todd's out on the town," John muttered.

"What? You know this guy's name and you are only telling me now?" If looks could kill John would have been a dead man as Hendricks glared.

"It's a nickname, not his real name. The truth is…complicated."

"Don't care! Tell me!" John inclined his head. Hendricks scowled but turned. "Leave us. Now!"

John waited until the two men were alone. "We don't have time for this," John began. "In probably less than 3 hours or so the world is going to hell in a hand basket. You wanna know the truth? Our killer is a space alien on the loose who feeds on humans and his objective is to open a rift in space and time to bring over his species to conquer the planet."

Silence. The seconds ticked, ticked. The men stood, staring at each other. To John's astonishment Hendricks produced a keycard and unlocked the cell. He slid the door open.

John stepped out of confinement. "You believe me?"

"No. But I hear the truth in your voice. Let's go. If even half of what you are saying is even remotely true I need you out there, not down here."

Rodney pointed. Maps were lit on every screen surrounding him in the conference room. "All these grids, every trajectory that leads into the city, to the power stations, all the roads to and from the facility, the desert, it all links but it doesn't. Can you see it? Of course you can't but I can, or rather I do now," he answered his own question.

Evan sighed as he sat at the table. "Care to explain it then? Look, so far Todd hasn't shown at any of these power stations, so where the hell is he? The device hasn't been activated yet, and so far no one has gotten into these stations. So?"

"So. I forgot to factor in the quantum mechanics of the…" A rumbling made Rodney pause.

Suddenly the room began to shake. The building was shaking. The screens flashed, trembling. Empty coffee mugs slid across the table. The windows rattled in their frames.

"Earthquake!"

"Ya think?" Evan replied, clutching the table as his chair threatened to slide out from under him.

Rodney moved to the doorway, holding on as consoles trembled and files fell to the floor. The papers spreading like leaves, covering the floor. "This one feels stronger!"

"Yeah, I noticed! Are we on a fault line?"

"No, not that I know of. However they did just discover a new fault line in California called the Polaris fault, and it's active! It's two hundred meters from Martis Creek Dam and thirty-five miles upstream from Reno. If this fault line becomes too violent the dam will burst and flood Reno!"

"Great, just what we need!" Evan sourly said. The two men were shouting over the increasingly loud noises as the building bucked and groaned. "Is this facility earthquake proof?"

"Yes." A pause. "I think."

"Bloody hell! Here we go again!" Carson warned as the building shook violently. "Hang onto something, Moira!" The doctor grabbed the wall. Medical equipment was shaking. Instruments were clattering noisily to the floor, adding to the creaks of the joints in the structure. The ceiling was shifting slightly, the tiles jumping out of their slots.

Moira rushed to the doorway and stood, pressing herself against the solidity of the frame. "We don't have earthquakes this big!"

"We do now!" Carson refuted. "We can ride it out, love, don't worry." A scanner fell, spinning like a top on the floor. "Is this a natural event of more of Todd's meddling? What is causing this seismic activity? What's the magnitude and where is the epicenter?"

"I don't know! I'm not a geologist!" Moira retorted, their voices rising as an alarm added to the noise and confusion. "Carson, look out!" she cried.

An EKG machine was toppling over straight towards the doctor. Carson leapt out of the way as the equipment lunged like a robot at him. The machine smashed to the floor, beeping in protest. "Bloody hell!" he swore, joining Moira in the doorway. A wall was shaking, shaking, almost bowing in the middle another jolt hit.

"Carson, I don't think that beam will hold!"

"I don't think so either, love. Get ready to duck and dive!"

John smiled at the uniform who reluctantly returned his things. He took his gun, his badge, his phone. Restored his watch after checking the time. Scowled. He hadn't realized he had been locked up for over an hour. He wondered if it was already too late. He wondered if there was still a world left to save. He checked his phone, saw several missed calls from Moira. He slipped on his jacket and turned as Hendricks approached. "Thanks."

"You better make it worth my while, Sheppard. All of that you told me…it's really true?"

"All of it. I didn't believe it either, at first. But it's all true," John assured.

"Stop ! You can't release him! He killed a cop!"

Hendricks shook his head, stopping the man who had arrested John. "I know, and we will deal with that after we deal with this. Besides, from what I heard Bates had it coming." He glanced at John. "What are you still doing here, Sheppard? Go! Go do what you need to do and we'll hold the line here."

"Yes, sir! Thank you!" John didn't wait around for the boss to change his mind. He quickly exited the building. Paused, slowing on the steps to dial his phone when the earth began to shake under his feet.

He staggered, nearly falling but grabbed the banister for support. Palm trees were swaying wildly. Lights were flickering and people were rushing into the street. John lost hold of his phone. It skittered down the steps and across the sidewalk. "Shit!" John swore, trying to follow after it but the shaking was only becoming more violent.

He half fell, half leapt down the stairs after the phone.

Only to see it being snatched by the hands of Chuck Campbell.


	9. Chapter 9

Violets in Vegas: Long Black Veil9

_Why did the last day of the world have to be so shitty? It started out wonderful, but it got progressively worse. And now that damn reporter was in my way. He always seemed to pop up like some cockroach, and always at the worst times. I guess it didn't matter. I had told Hendricks the truth and the man didn't bat an eye. I figured I may as well tell Campbell. It wouldn't do any harm._

_The harm was already done._

Chuck Campbell smiled as he knelt on the sidewalk. He kept a firm grip on the purloined phone as the ground violently shook beneath him. "Lose something, Sheppard?"

"Shit. I don't have time for this! Gimme!" John held out his open hand as his other one kept hold of the banister. But he lurched to his knees as the banister violently shook as well.

The sidewalk was bucking like a bronco trying to throw off a rider. Concrete was upheaving like a monster beneath it was trying to surface. A crack appeared. Concrete and dirt were spit up into the hot air. Pieces flying in every direction.

"Son of a bitch!" John and Chuck exclaimed at the same time, shielding their faces from the debris.

The crack spread out into the road and cars were sliding over it, thrown across and into each other. A fire hydrant on the corner imploded. Water shot straight up into the air, showering the area with cold relief.

Then suddenly it stopped. The ground grew still. Quiet. Sirens blared. Traffic lights flickered. The heat resumed its merciless assault, the sun a boiling mass of gold in the orange sky. People were shouting in wonder, in relief. Children were screaming in joy as they ran under the spraying water, splashing and playing.

John relaxed his hold on the bent banister. Slowly he moved to his feet. Stepped to Chuck as the other man stood. He snatched his phone out of the reporter's hand.

"Hey, Shep, what's going on? First I hear about some odd deaths. Then I hear you got arrested? Are you out on bail or something?"

"Get outta my way, Campbell!" John snarled, trying to move around the reporter. "Shouldn't you be covering this earthquake?"

"Crime's my beat, not the weather," he retorted, undeterred. "Tell me," he persisted, doggedly following John to his car across the street, "what is going on? Some secret nuke tests underground? At that facility? Are they building a hadron collider like CERN? Some kind of atmospheric testing?"

John ignored him. He got into his car and started the ignition. Began to drive but Chuck was suddenly rushing to get into the passenger seat of the car. He slammed the door shut. "What the…get out!"

"All I need is a quote, detective, confirmation in light of recent developments! All I need is an answer! The truth!"

John glared at the other man. "You want an answer? Fine, I'll give you one. If you don't get the fuck out of my car and let me do my job in about two hours some ugly space alien is going to suck the life out of you and everyone on this planet!" He stopped the car abruptly. "Now get out!"

Chuck was staring at him. He got out of the car. "Can I quote you on that, detective? Hey! My hat!" he shouted as the red car tore away from him, tires burning rubber. John tossed the hat out of the window as he sped down the road. Chuck cursed, ran to grab it before it was run over by another car. "Thanks, Shep!" he called, but the red car was long gone.

Moira was fretting, trying not to worry. The images on the television were disturbing. Violent. Reporters were covering the damage to the city, the streets. Meanwhile the rioters were continuing their unexplained assault on the power stations. She tried calling John but there was no answer. Richard Woolsey had taken a head count. The facility was fine, had suffered only minor damage and there had been no injuries to its personnel.

Rodney shut off the television. "This changes nothing. It doesn't change what we need to do. I want everyone in the conference room in ten minutes. We have to move and we have to move now, with or without Sheppard." He turned from the PA speaker and eyed Evan. "I want you to be on Caldwell's team. Weir will lead the other one."

"And where are we going?"

"That I don't know yet. But when I do we will have to move fast."

Moira watched them vacate the room. She stood, staring stupidly at her phone. At a loss as to what to do, where to go. She didn't seem to be necessary here. Certainly she wasn't going out with one of the teams. She had never held a gun much less fired one. She stared at the device Rodney had left on the table. The strange concoction of organic and electric materials. Wraith and human combined into an amalgamation that would do something to trigger the rift or to send a communication.

"Moira! Aren't you coming?" Rodney asked, returning to the room.

"You said this could be a communication device?"

"It's one possibility. Why?"

"Didn't you say the communication had already been sent? By the first Wraith?"

"You really did read the whole file, didn't you?" Rodney asked, pleased. "We know some kind of communication got through the rift, but to which reality is anyone's guess. The multiverse is vast, and with the rift being unstable and the communication being a signal, not a physical thing it could have theoretically gone anywhere. To any multiverse. Which would mean that another version of Earth may be facing what we are…if we are…but we are because the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. That the signal went to the Wraith from the reality that we tapped before, the one from which Todd originated. Why?"

It took a moment for Moira to work her way through his logic back to her question. "What if it's not. Not a communication device but the other option."

"You mean a way to open the rift?"

"Yes, or at least a way to tug the loose thread in the tear. Your previous analogy," she clarified. "And the Wraith on their end do the rest?"

"Yes. I…oh." Rodney stared at the device. "Oh shit."

John waited until he was clear of the city, clear of the congested traffic and car crashes and toppled signs before he grabbed the phone on his lap and called up the number he needed. Lifting it he pressed the phone to his ear as he drove out of the suburbs, straight into the desert. "Moira? I'm on my way. Anything?"

Moira nearly jumped as her phone rang, then John's voice sounding in her ear. "John! Yes. What's happening out there? Are you okay?"

"Later, Moira! Location?

"Not yet, but Rodney thinks he knows what the device is now."

"I do know!" Rodney snapped, but shrugged. "Thanks to you."

"Fine, you do know! John, are you okay?"

"On my way, Moira. I want that damn location by the time I get there!" He abruptly ended the call. Pressed his foot to the gas pedal and raced to the facility. But he frowned. Swore. Slowed a bit as he redialed. Waited. "Moira? I, um, I…sorry. About that. The way I spoke to you."

Moira nodded, realized John couldn't see it. "That's okay, John. Just get here."

"It isn't okay, but thanks, Moira. I'll be there in fifteen. So…baby…what color are you wearing today? And I don't mean your t-shirt," he teased, relaxing into the flirtation.


End file.
